Junkfood Sexlife. Jessamyn Violet
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I’ve written some songs and it helps a little, but not enough.
-I understand. But why fight it so hard? He could be feeling these things too, whomever he is in this galaxy. Maybe his spirit is fixated on you, too. Maybe that’s why you can’t control the feelings.
-Well, I hope so, because I can’t remember feeling this strongly for anyone ever before. And I hate obsessing. It’s so uncomfortable.
-You must bring him to me somehow. Do not tell him of my presence. Just lead him here. I will be able to read his mind and see if he’s feeling the same way.
Cassandra nodded and looked down at her reflection in the canal water. It was dim, rippled and pale. She looked haunted. She shivered and flicked the water, making herself disappear in the tiny waves.
They said goodnight.
Back at the house, the electronic music had stopped. Cassandra made herself another cup of tea. Grabbing her ukulele, she headed to the living room. As soon as she plucked a few notes on the instrument’s heart strings, she heard Gerard’s door open. He looked delighted to see her.
Damn actors, she thought. Even their reflexive facial motions have to be questioned. Was he really happy to see her? Or was he acting happy to see her because… well, what would actually be the point of that? Kissing homeowner ass? Either way, the desire to slurp each others’ faces off had to be mutual, didn’t it?
Ugh. He was So. Unbelievably. Handsome. Sharply-Freshly handsome. Gorgeous-Soul handsome. Glowing-Goddamn-Lights-of-Christmas handsome.
“Hey, you,” she said, far from casually, looking somewhere vaguely to his left.
He checked the direction she was looking and found nothing.
“Cassandra… Hey. Can I join you?”
“Of course,” she said. “I’m just unwinding from the day.”
He sat down. “You look good with that instrument in your hands. It sounds like it likes to be played by you, too.”
She giggled, inwardly cringing at the sound of her laugh. “Thanks! My band mates have forbidden me from bringing it into the bedroom, but I play it in secret sometimes.”
God. Why did she, like, black out when she was talking to him? It was so weird.
“The bedroom?”
She laughed again. “Sorry, yeah that needs some explaining. That’s what we call our rehearsal space. You know, because—”
“—That’s where the magic happens?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Yes. You got it.”
“What’s your band’s name, again?”
“Slam Pigs.”
“Right. Cool.” His phone chirped in his pocket, and he visibly fought himself not to check it, then sighed as he gave in and dug it out to glance at it. “Fuck, how did it get to be 2:30 already? I have an important audition tomorrow.”
“What for?”
“This series called Time’s Up where the lead gets to play five completely different characters. They have a whole special effects makeup team on board, the same guys who did Terror Town and Who Called The Reaper?”
“Bad ASS!” Cassandra could get excited about that. She loved horror movies.
“I know. I should probably get some sleep about it. I’m all wound up.”
“Do you want to run your lines?”
“Thanks for the offer, but I already ran through the characters with Jeremy earlier.” Jeremy was the other boarder in the house, also an actor, staying in the back bedroom. She had seen him all of once since he’d moved in. “I want to save the rest of my energy for tomorrow, yeah? I’m not going to lie, it’s bloody exhausting hearing all these voices in my head,” he said, slipping into a British accent.
Cassandra smiled and tried not to look disappointed. She stood as he stood and they stared at each other from opposite ends of the couch, eyes creating ropes that pulled at each other. Then they walked towards each other for a hug goodnight. He unexpectedly turned his face for a full mouth kiss in the process. She was so caught off guard she missed a direct landing by an inch or so.
It was a half kiss. She was mortified.
Gerard smiled. “Oops, I think I went too far into character, there. Good night, love.”
He left her feeling dumb and lonely in the living room.
Gerard Vice::
It was a good day to be good looking.
Gerard arrived at his audition right on time and took his seat among the other actors, glancing around as he always did to see who was better-looking or brighter-looking than him. He saw a few of his usual competitors who he’d continually proven to beat out. He felt sorry for them, really. They always looked so deflated when he walked in.
There was only one guy who looked almost as equally handsome and intelligent as Gerard knew he looked himself, and this guy was a fresh face. The new competition met his eyes, and they gazed at each other levelly.
Where had that guy come from?
Pay it no mind, Gerard told himself. You’ve beaten out bigger names than you. This guy isn’t even recognizable.
The bastard sure was handsome, though. With piercing eyes. He had “that face.”
It was probably nothing. Gerard reassured himself he’d get the part because he’d always wanted to do something like this, and he’d served his time. With a couple minor roles in major action movies under his belt, alongside a lead role in a 3-season show, he was now reaching the tier where he finally saw himself as undeniable and didn’t need to sweat it out in the waiting room as much as he used to.
He did wish that guy would stop staring at him, though. To confront the situation, he met his rival’s gaze. He was feeling charitable, so he even gave a small smile. The guy didn’t return it.
So… He was a tough handsome bastard.
Well, that was the last Gerard would try to be friendly. He took out his phone and began texting with his agent, Jimmy. His schedule was filling up fast in the few brief months he was to be staying on his favorite coast. With a force much greater than luck, he’d have to extend his stay because he’d land something good.
Jimmy was inviting him to happy hour with one of his favorite podcasts’ hosts, Matt Bogart. Fuck yeah, he wanted to join them.
“Gerard Vice!” a petite blonde called out in a voice that made it sound like he had been picked to win the lottery.
Gerard stood and looked at no one. He walked directly into the casting room, eyes fixed on the prize. Five people sat at the conference table, tablets scattered about, the newest version of super-camera set up behind them. He was familiar with two of the casting agents. One of them had cast him in his largest grossing commercial yet. He took that as a good omen and flashed them all his trademark winning smile.
“Good day, ladies and lords of the casting castle.”
Who knows. He felt like being silly. Luckily, it got a better response than he expected.
“Hey, Paul, Kathy,” he continued, slathering on more cheesy charm. “Haven’t seen you both in a while. Hope all’s well!”
Paul nodded at him. Kathy waved amicably. The woman at the far end cleared her throat and smiled.
“So, Gerard, why don’t you go ahead and state your name, and then just launch into it, give us your improvised impressions of the five characters back to back.”
After stating his name, he riffed as a Texas cowboy named Buster Spurs, a gay South African gymnast called Clarence, Billy